


Silverskin

by blue_bluer



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: A Very Vague Allusion to Dongju's Breeding Kink, Alpha Kim Geonhak, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Banter, Dominant Bottom, Exhibitionism, House Party, Knotting, M/M, Non-Canonical (Since Dongju Is Inked And Pierced), Omega Son Dongju, Piercings, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Rings, Strangers to Fuckers I Guess, Tattoos, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_bluer/pseuds/blue_bluer
Summary: He fell bum-first on the sofa –notthe one which was already being occupied by mating couples, to his relief. Naturally, the relief drained out of him the second he realized thattheywere about to become a mating couple, him and Dongju. Him and Dongju. Dongju and him.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 213





	Silverskin

With the eyes of dozens of Aztec masks boring and pressing into him from every angle, Geonhak felt more naked than he already was – and he _was_. Naked as the day, naked as the night, as January fields, and as any other semi-poetic simile that Geonhak had at the tip of his tongue.

He threw an uncertain look around the doorless villa. Vaulted passages which gave a view of the adjacent rooms connected the space, creating an illusion of something endless. Endless entrances and exits. Endless eyes.

Geonhak soon decided to find solace in the void, carved eyes of the masks staring at him instead. It was better than the shifting, liquid eyes of the crowd. From frat boys to outcasts. From nerds to wrestlers. From alphas to omegas. There were simply too many eyes, and Seoho's father's Aztec collection only multiplied the sensation of being watched and judged for every freckle or bone; but, unlike people, the masks didn't laugh.

The laughter was omnipresent. Geonhak's common sense was good enough (and his ego small enough) to know that nobody was laughing _at_ him, just _around_ him; yet he couldn't help being jumpy at the sound. Jittery. Hands twitching at his sides, he searched the folding and unfolding crowd for Seoho. The headcount must have climbed since Geonhak had come and been unceremoniously shoved to a darkish closet where he had taken his clothes and shoes off, just as everyone else in the house had.

Seoho's parties, as the unofficial motto went, weren't for pussies.

The space roared with voices and buzzy synthwave ambience. Some of the foyers and staircases rolled out in front of Geonhak fully lit, while other parts of the building lay in a glowstick-cut darkness, deepening the labyrinthine effect of the villa. The scene reminded Geonhak of one of those glitterati parties he would sometimes hear about on TV – if he overlooked the tiny detail that Seoho was the only rich kid here, and that he could see more shining asses than accessories.

The chaebol nowhere in sight, Geonhak braved the storm and walked into the swaying sounds and warmths and scents.

Nobody had warned him about the scents.

It should have been the first thing to think about, really, if Geonhak hadn't been too preoccupied with considering the risks of casual nudity (his hand shyly slid lower of its own volition to shield his groin) and casual sex (the hand stayed there, pinned and firm). To him, neither seemed exactly casual, not even in this sort of setting; but he hid it well as he waded through the bodies. Apart from the nervously twisted arm, he could almost appear sovereign as he moved the dancing, drinking mass out of his way with his authority alone. He craned his neck to see, shoulders squared, ears overflowing with soft-steely basslines.

He was no longer looking for Seoho. Geonhak hadn't come over because of him anyway. He tiptoed slightly, trying to spot Youngjo somewhere in the coral-meadow of heads. His broad back, or the nape of his neck, or his eye-smile.

 _He's been talking about you, you know_ , Seoho had thrown in some time ago, and although Geonhak had snorted and dismissed the idea that a guy like Youngjo could pay him anything other than dust, the remark had remained at the back of his mind.

He didn't have a crush. If anything, he had a crush on the idea of being someone's crush.

Not that he trusted Seoho completely; for all Geonhak knew, he might have been just fucking around. Still, it was worth the shot, wasn't it?

A small clearing opened before him. More masks. Rugs and coffee tables, vases and sofas. So many sofas. A couple was fucking on one of them.

 _A couple was fucking on one of them_.

Before Geonhak could breathe in in relief and breathe out in utter terror, a cool touch clamped his wrist. He gazed down, expecting Seoho's grabby fingers.

He found them pale and knobby instead. Delicate silver rings seemed to seep into the person's skin like tattoos. Geonhak didn't have to turn his gaze back up to know whose hand it was, but his mind closed to the conclusion somehow. It had to be a coincidence. A lot of people probably wore rings like these, not just Seoho's solitary, secretive omega roommate –

Geonhak's face fell as he lifted his head to stare straight into Dongju's eyes.

They carved into him deeper than the eyeholes in the collection of masks.

They _bore_ deeper.

Both Geonhak's hands lost feeling in them for a moment, hanging limply at his sides and baring him fully to the scrutiny. Dongju gave him a once-over, pausing where Geonhak had grown hot and heavy from brushing against the bodies around him and taking in the tang of their sweat in the air – and other scents. Geonhak, for his part, barely made it past Dongju's chest while returning the look.

Sure, he had noticed the younger boy's eyebrow piercing before when they'd greeted each other in passing – Dongju disappearing into his room at the sight of strangers like smoke – and he had even noticed a suspicious glint inside the boy's mouth once.

What almost punched the last atom of oxygen out of Geonhak's lungs, though, was the _other_ set of piercings. The jewels glimmered on Dongju's chest: one a plain barbell, the other a lovely little ringlet.

Yeah. Geonhak really didn't dare to look past that.

His head promptly snapped up as he caught himself gaping for too long. Dongju's eyes were already locked onto him, and darker than before. His grip had grown urgent while Geonhak wasn't looking, burning into his wrist.

“Knot or not?”

The fucking _voice_. Geonhak had to tear himself from the fleeting, glowstick-like gleam that moved with Dongju's tongue whenever the boy spoke.

“What?” Geonhak rasped.

“Knot or not?” repeated the kid, and it wouldn't have been helpful at all if his scent hadn't suddenly gotten louder.

Geonhak pulled in a sharp breath. He knew this kind of scent.

He'd kissed it off someone else's skin before.

It wasn't ripe yet, but it was threatening to spill out – the self-contained, pulsing smell of an omega whose heat didn't have proper power over them for the time being, but kept approaching in long, quickening paces. Swallowing up pieces of self-control on the way. Sweetening. Geonhak discreetly left his mouth half-open so he could taste tinge of warmth and desperation better, test it out. Guesstimate how far Dongju was in, and how much time he had left.

A day, had it not been for the rave and havoc and slick sounds of sex around them.

In these conditions, Dongju had a few hours, if Geonhak was being realistic. If he was being _generous_.

His hand moved on its own accord again, closing over Dongju's and lightly rubbing it.

“Sure,” he got out of his clamped chest. “Sure, I can knot you.”

Dongju studied him for one more moment. He appeared to be estimating the truth of the promise, possibly because there were alphas who couldn't knot omegas unless they themselves had gone into a rut or unless they were bonded, which must have been why Dongju had asked so bluntly in the first place. Then he glanced at Geonhak's shamefully swelling cock again, eyeing it like an enemy, and he took a stride forward.

For how cool his touch was, his body blazed.

His chest piercings pressed into Geonhak's bare skin, grazing him as Dongju let go of his wrist and began to lean into him and lead him backwards by the sides. Fingers skimming up, he traced the ridges of Geonhak's rib cage as if counting them.

He fell bum-first on the sofa – _not_ the one which was already being occupied by mating couples, to his relief. Naturally, the relief drained out of him the second he realized that _they_ were about to become a mating couple, him and Dongju. Him and Dongju. Dongju and him.

Geonhak shuddered and let out a low-voiced whisper, inaudible even to him as Dongju straddled him. Arching low to lay his parted lips to the side of Geonhak's jaw, Dongju brought his body fully down without any warning. It made Geonhak feel claustrophobic, clenched between the boy's thighs and held under him. Caged by him. Choked by the sheer pressure of Dongju's chest on his own chest.

His mind was a busy Seoul street, bustling and bursting, and so, so loud. Only now his hazy thoughts congealed into a slightly less hazy realization of what was going on, and Geonhak had to ask himself why on earth had Seoho's asocial roommate singled _him_ out for this, of all people. The kid must have known other alphas. Must have known someone with whom he had exchanged more than a morose “hi” and who would take him slow, take him nice. Take him somewhere private, for fuck's sake.

Dongju sure seemed private for someone who, according to Seoho, had no qualms performing in front of a full karaoke bar, dishing out his soul in sappy love songs as well as those mellow, more genuine ones.

But maybe that was Dongju's thing. He hated people until they turned into a backdrop. Into an audience who could watch him.

God, did he liked being watched?

Geonhak didn't know what all that was about.

He just knew that there was nothing beyond Dongju for him – nothing that mattered. Just a smokeful of shadows behind the boy's back which sometimes took a shape of a person or two; a watery swish and slosh of bodies in the dark. Geonhak didn't care for them. He had his eyes up, fixed on Dongju's face. Uncertain, he upturned his own face so his expression would be visible and tried to squeeze out a small smile.

After that, Geonhak's struggling, wispy thoughts tore apart once again because the boy wiped his polite smile off and kissed him with that thing in his mouth.

That thing.

The piercing.

Geonhak's eyes fluttered shut. He'd imagined the kiss to be awkward and tasting of metal. Dongju just tasted clean, though. No soju or vodka or metallic aftertaste after he'd dragged his tongue over Geonhak's.

Instead, what almost stole Geonhak's ability to respond and kiss back was the outpour of Dongju's scent, burying his senses from this close. It was as though it passed through Dongju's skin and seeped into Geonhak's where they touched – which was everywhere at this point.

Black coffee and white sage – sacred sage, pinpointed Geonhak as he ran his hands down the curve of Dongju's ass. The black-and-white, strangely sober scent clashed with the syrupy need which oozed out of Dongju's glands in doses large like lakes. It came from within, strong and musky and rivalling Geonhak's own pheromones going insane.

He didn't even _drink_ his coffee plain black, but he would god-fuck-damn kiss and taste every part of Dongju if he could. His sweet slick. His bitter cum.

For now, he made do with the warmth of Dongju's mouth.

Sitting this close, Geonhak felt the weight of every kilo of the omega as he and Dongju clung to each other edge-to-edge. Geonhak was firmer of the two, but, really, they didn't differ in size all that much. It would be a sour thought for Geonhak if he was younger and still stupid enough to care. He'd moved past stressing over whether he looked strong enough, whether his body grew sinewy enough. Whether he oozed confidence on sight. It had little to do with who he truly was. After all, even the soft omega in his lap could treat him like a disposable pocket knot, toss him away right after, and get away with it.

“Shut up,” murmured Dongju into the kiss, grinding the words out in his sea-smoothing voice. “I can hear you think.”

“Sorry,” said Geonhak, feeling silly, and he took hold of Dongju's hips to regain some of his composure. Some of his authority.

It wasn't the best idea. His gaze dropped lower at last, following his hands, and that was when his heart stopped. He took in the black outrush of ink laving over Dongju's hips. Petals. Songbirds. Words. Geonhak's vision grew blurry, too blurry to read any of the quotes Dongju had incorporated into those two large tattoos blooming at his hip bones.

Later he would regret it. He would wish he'd paid the tattoos more mind because they were the only things about Dongju one could read freely.

Right then and there, though, all Geonhak had the capacity for was screwing up his face in mild terror because the kid had the softest set of hips.

And even lower, _another piercing_.

Only when he saw it with his own eyes, Geonhak also felt the slow to-and-fro touch of the silver ring as Dongju rubbed his cock against his stomach.

A husky whine got stuck on his lips.

Dongju was kissing him again, or rather pressing wet kisses against Geonhak's closed mouth.

“Sorry, but,” said Geonhak, choking it out as quietly as their closeness allowed him in the synthwave pudding of sounds, “why – why do you want me to do it? Why not Seoho? You two know each other, I...”

“We both know he likes taking cock better than giving it. Plus. Haven't heard _you_ shit and piss. Kinda helps,” replied Dongju with curtness which oddly became him, but which still left Geonhak starving for something, and then he nodded down to his very swollen, very pierced cock as if to illustrate how much the _modesty_ truly helped.

Geonhak flushed.

“Oh. Yeah. I. I guess that helps,” he managed.

“Besides. I don't let just anybody knot me either.”

“But you will let me?”

“Depends. Are you gonna put it in any time soon?”

“I – don't you – don't you need me to finger you first...?” asked Geonhak, voice fading until it turned too faint to hear.

Dongju gave him an unreadable stare. He rolled his hips.

“Don't act as though you can't smell it.”

Geonhak flushed a deeper colour. Rosy to ruby; throat tightening; hands bruising Dongju's hips.

Of course he could smell it. He could smell that, underneath the scent of Dongju's upcoming heat, the trail of his heavily dripping slick spoke stronger and louder than just his biology. Under a fleshy layer of his heat-driven pheromones, there was plain arousal.

Waiting for Geonhak to do something, anything, Dongju leaned in. He put his forearms on the backrest behind Geonhak. They sank into the cushy material. Dongju slid lower, pasting himself onto the alpha in perfect symmetry.

“You can come inside,” said Dongju in a silent tone. “I'm on the pill.”

A tight, painfully pulled string in Geonhak's core snapped. Cut him in half. He wound his arms around Dongju's waist without realizing how hard the grip was, and, lifting him up, he buried himself inside with a clumsy stutter of the hips.

He never would have thought that he was the type of alpha who got all hot and glassy-eyed at the mention of pharmaceutical prescriptions; yet here he was. Getting ahead of himself as he imagined coating Dongju's hole with his cum inside out.

Pulling Dongju down until his cock split him open, Geonhak put his face against the side of the omega's neck. The friction felt unbearable despite the thick stain of slick which ran out of Dongju and onto Geonhak's groin and thighs. The sofa would be ruined by the end of this, but that was on Seoho. He shouldn't be hosting fuck parties while his family lounged in Macau, or wherever they had gone this time for the weekend.

Dongju crushed Geonhak's shoulders in a firm grasp, fingers hurting his bones. He nosed at Geonhak's hair and breathed in and out, the hotness fanning over his scalp.

“You feel bigger than you look,” he murmured.

“That's my only charm,” replied Geonhak, a little winded. A little out of his mind. Led by something a little primal. He mirrored Dongju and nosed at his scent gland in retaliation, wrecking a shudder out of him. “You are wetter than you smell.”

The kid snorted at that and dragged himself up to show Geonhak just how wet he really was. More droplets made it past his stretched rim, gliding down Geonhak's cock and overwhelming his nose.

“That's _one_ of _my_ charms,” murmured Dongju and sharply sat back down, skin slapping over Geonhak's skin.

Tuned to the endless synthwave sounds that resonated through the villa, Geonhak expected Dongju to set a similar pace. After all, Dongju dabbled in music in his spare time; he had to feel it pour and pulse through him. The song went on in gooey, stretchy basslines. Heavy but going in slow-mo. Dongju should go with it.

But his naïveté soon left him. Groaning underneath the kid, Geonhak clasped him by the hip bones, fingertips pressing into the inky blossoms and wings like he was trying to imprint himself into Dongju too.

Dongju _started_ insane, throwing Geonhak into a throat-gripping fear of how he was going to finish.

“Jesus,” gasped Geonhak, hands slipping over the boy's love handles in a vain attempt to temper his tempo. “You busy after, or...?”

“Stop talking,” Dongju ground out, “unless it's about how you're going to breed me.”

Geonhak could fucking hiccup in panic.

It wasn't that he would call himself vanilla. He wasn't. Far from it. He'd come _here_ , after all.

He just had some limits on how reverse-vanilla he could go. How spicy.

“Spicy,” exhaled Dongju and he nipped at Geonhak's neck, startling him into looking up and _snapping_ his hips upwards.

Dongju moaned and met him halfway, dropping his weight onto him completely. He had his head laid against the side of Geonhak's neck where his scent gland tingled at the proximity, Dongju's upper lip brushed and rolled over the spot in between thrusts as his body fell forward. When he panted, it teased the sensitive place, like a never-ending line of too-light flower petals grazing Geonhak's skin during a walk through a greenhouse.

Still speechless, Geonhak passed on any possible response and focused on fucking Dongju full. He hooked one arm around Dongju's waist and placed his other hand lower, sliding it down the cleft of his ass. Fingers splaying to the sides of Dongju's rim, he pulled his already tight hole even more taut, holding him exposed for everyone to see. Holding him open for his cock.

His hold strengthened as Dongju gave a half-hearted growl.

Somehow, Geonhak could tell that it had come out more threatening than Dongju had meant it. Otherwise he wouldn't have grown warmer around him. He wouldn't have closed up around his cock like this.

Reassured by the reaction, Geonhak scooped him up and fucked into him as he simultaneously forced Dongju back on his still-swelling cock, making him take it. Stretching Dongju's walls to the point that he swallowed Geonhak up without any resistance because he had already reshaped for him.

Slick rolled down Geonhak's groin. It turned his thighs slippery. His balls tightened. He splayed his hand and clenched it into the softly shaking skin of Dongju's ass in a spasm, helping him to hoist himself up and leaving a handprint.

Dongju growled again – but first he moaned. He moaned straight into Geonhak's ear. His teeth skimmed the soft shell-shaped outline.

Then there was no point trying to bury the sounds anymore. With Dongju's mouth falling open and breathing out in wet gusts against the curve of Geonhak's ear, the alpha became the sole spectator of everything. Everyone else could see Dongju clumsily pressing himself closer and putting his legs around Geonhak until they rocked together in the lotus position; but nobody besides Geonhak could hear. Hear him lose composure one thrust at a time.

Hear his voice thin out and turn pleading, colouring into a pinched whine.

“Make it go away,” whispered Dongju. He sank down harder, hugged Geonhak till it hurt – till they looked like they loved each other. “It's getting _worse_. Please, make it go away.”

Geonhak glanced down. Squished between them, Dongju's hard-on blushed at the tip, and a tear after an opaque tear made it past his slit and smeared Geonhak's stomach. The small piercing adorning him had gone glossy with the beading precome.

It looked so cute and helpless that Geonhak reached between them and took the tip of Dongju's cock between two fingers. He stroked.

Thrashing, Dongju spilled all over him with a wet sob. He hung his head lower, resting it briefly on Geonhak's shoulder and silencing his moans. Silencing them by biting down.

Geonhak bit back a groan and kept stroking him. He wrapped Dongju's whole softening cock in his palm and didn't let him go limp all the way. He knew he had to build it up; make it so good for Dongju that it was almost bad, the good kind of bad that clenched one's belly and turned the air in their throat solid. His thumb teased Dongju's piercing and slit, using his precome _and_ come to slide over the oversensitive skin easier. All the while, he ground his hips into Dongju from below as he held the omega deeply seated on his dick.

He was perhaps semi-vanilla, but he'd heard a thing or two about a good prostate milking.

He angled himself and, with a few choppy thrusts, he brought Dongju over the brim again.

Dongju couldn't silence it this time. Synthwave songs or not, a full house or not. His long whine turned the head of every alpha in the room. Some snorted. Some wore serious faces, eyes squinted into elongated slits. Every single one of them took in the flood of Dongju's clean-filthy scent.

Geonhak's balls tightened again.

He knew he wouldn't be able to go on, not for long, so he put his hands soothingly on Dongju's back.

“Almost there,” he whispered, tugging the boy to him.

A whine.

Two arms pulled his head in into a hug and gave Geonhak a view of a tattoo below the nape of Dongju's neck.

Then, the boy tightened his hole at the same time that he sank his teeth into Geonhak's throat.

The moan that ripped through him would make Geonhak shy on the spot if the soul-numbing intensity of his orgasm didn't overrule his shame, his mind, and even the words spilling out of him. He grabbed the back of Dongju's head as if to encourage him, unwittingly, because all he'd meant was to protect him from more stares.

People were already watching as Geonhak swelled to his thickest inside of him, Dongju still rolling his hips to take him fully, claim him, _ride him_. Ride him although Geonhak had the boy weeping and knotted and hugging the life out of him.

A laughing voice said something about “that omega” being “freaky.” But at that point it didn't seem to matter to Dongju anymore.

Geonhak himself split into black and white, the black part of him overpowered with bliss and the white one going even whiter with rage, a caged rage which he couldn't unleash without pulling out of Dongju and hurting him.

 _Freaky_ had always been the furthest from Geonhak's mind when thinking about Dongju; not that he ever deliberately went out of his way to think about the kid. But if he _did_ , he would choose a better word to describe him. Strange. Enigmatic, even. Just not... ride-your-knot kind of strange or fuck-you-in-public-for-an-unknown-reason kind of enigmatic.

Gritting out a deep-voiced whimper, Geonhak curled into himself and tried to cover as much of Dongju as he could while doing so. He put his legs up and snuggled them under Dongju, partially obscuring his reddened hole pulled taut around his throbbing cock. One of his hands slid into its previous place and hung limply over the cleft of Dongju's ass.

Then, realizing what he'd just done, Geonhak shook with chills and pushed his face into the crook of Dongju's neck. He nuzzled it in there with a needy sound as his shyness finally reached him and had his cheeks blazing like a slap would.

His throat went hot with irregular throbs where Dongju had bitten it.

Sighing, he squeezed Dongju tighter. It sort of surprised Geonhak how smooth he was to the touch because, somewhere along the way, Dongju had started to smell of sea salt while his alpha-attracting scent had deepened and overpowered the smoothness of his regular scent. And now, ripened to the core, the salty sting in the air almost coated both of them. Geonhak wouldn't as much as blink if he caressed Dongju's back and found a filmy crust of sea salt covering his spine, like an opaque tidemark on a cliff, crystallic and shining in the sunlight.

Ever so slowly, the saltiness eventually faded out, replaced by the scent of coffee and sage and sleepiness.

Wincing with the last aftershocks of his release, Geonhak put his lips under Dongju's ear.

“Is it gone?” he asked softly.

“I guess.” The edges of his teeth skirted over the bruise he'd left over Geonhak's scent gland. “That was good. Fuck.”

His voice had a shaky quality to it, robbing Geonhak of words. It was too nice to listen to, and too far away already. Too detached, and just as Geonhak finished that thought, Dongju brokenly lifted himself up. Their bodies detached too.

Geonhak watched with a quiet moan as his cock eased out and toppled over onto his navel, a soaked, helpless thing. As heavy as though it was still hard. Silken veins ran in plump paths alongside his shaft and gave the impression that his cock was breathing, or out of breath.

As Dongju crawled off him and off the sofa, Geonhak got the last glance of his puffy hole, leaking _worse_ than before. He shuddered at the sight, but didn't move apart from his hands, which followed after Dongju with an embarrassingly grabby motion. Body sunken in the backrest of the sofa and chest rising shallowly, Geonhak felt cold fingers clasp him and push him aside – without force; with finality.

His eyes flowed up and outlined Dongju as he straightened up and wobbled away. Unsteady at first, he regained his balance after a few steps, stretched his arms above his head, and slipped his way into the crowd. Geonhak stared into his back in disbelief, every bit as spent as he looked. Sounded. Smelled.

He smelled so _messy_.

So used up.

He sat there for a very long while with a softly hurting cock, and an odd ache at the side of his throat.


End file.
